


Too little Agility

by Butch_the_Fade_Strider



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, BDSM, Biting, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Lone Wanderer, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dominance, Domination, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Gags, Hand Jobs, Heavy BDSM, Innocence, Innocent Lone Wanderer, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Protagonist, Masterbation, Pip-Boy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rating May Change, Riding, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Stuck in a wall, Teenagers, Top Butch DeLoria, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Underage Sex, Vault 101, Verbal Bondage, Verbal Humiliation, innocence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butch_the_Fade_Strider/pseuds/Butch_the_Fade_Strider
Summary: Okay so maaaybe James was missing a few SPECIAL traits. He wasn't exactly the strongest...but not the most weak mother fucker to walk the vault...and he lacked a charismatic nature, too. BUUUT - it wasn't like he couldn't handle a little hardship - hell, he had to LEARN to have endurance in his life...!He had plenty of brainpower, too! And his perceptive nature tended to prove useful (and also hindering, pending the situation) in a pinch! Plus, he wasn't horrendously unlucky - even if he got thrown into the occasional problematic situations. Nah, not at all. But...god it felt like he was missing something drastic when he stumbled all over himself. Too bad he can't fit through tight spaces to save his life....As a side note, it's probably a REALLY good thing Butch can fit into tight spaces.





	Too little Agility

**Author's Note:**

> Warning right off:
> 
> This is mildly nonconish in parts. I mean, they both consent, but I always have perceived the younger Butch as taking things to extremes, and being a general hood. This transcends, even to his sexual life. So yeah, there are times when Butch takes it too far.

James Junior flexed his fingers back and forth, slumped over uncomfortably in the typically metallic seat anticipated of the Vault. It's silver alloy was at least somewhat different from the typical burnt or scrapped out metal lining the hallways, stairs, doors...

Scratch that - that lined EVERYTHING-

Well...aside from the living, breathing human beings and occasional felt or leather covering up a booth, or toy. The 15-year-old slumped down and, seeing that the teacher Edwin Brotch was well distracted, quietly tried to unstrap his wrist from the glove he still hadn't gotten used to - despite five years of it. On his other wrist - a rubber watch with the Vault Boy in his typical position...

Thumbs up.

Hand down.

Annoying wink.

All surrounded by Vault Tec's beloved yellow symbol...

Not that he really needed the watch, given the fact that his Pip Boy had a constant clock...but he treasured the object only for the sake of it being his 11th birthday gift courtesy of Amata. Her claim was that she found it tucked away somewhere in storage...an abandoned piece of technology that was never brought to life due to the same function on the Vault given Pip Boy. But due to James's interest in anything that had to do with 'the old world' (okay, make that - anything that could be counted as "technology" - it's just he expressed interest in the workings of the old world more often than not), Amata had immediately snatched one before her father disposed of the box to make room for more storage of recent scrap.

James was elated by Amata's discovery, and although he didn't tell her - he may or may not have taken it apart fourteen times...

or was it....twelve...?

No...

Fifteen?

Twenty?

Carry the two-

....

Who cares.

The point is, he took it apart a LOT. He loved technology - tinkered frequently - hell - even by the time he was five he'd figured out how to take apart and put back together his beloved nuka cola truck, piece by tiny piece....

When James Senior wasn't around of course, lord knows the doctor tried desperately to keep his son away from small choking hazards - but that didn't deter a stubborn five year-

He hissed suddenly, in the midst of rubbing his sore wrist a paper airplane had hit him in the side of his head. It flitted out of place, landing in between the metal cage of his seat and the bars near. James's head whirled towards the direction, from whence it came, blue eyes searing forward and blonde hair sifting out of place over his features. He was forced to blow it back, flicking his head slightly and generating attention from his teacher, Mr. Brotch. James noticed belatedly that Butch had thrown the damn thing, probably to cause Brotch's attention. "-It seems some of you feel gifted enough they don't _NEED_ the lesson. Very well, Mr. LeDeaux, mind sharing your vast insight into the structure of unicellular and multicellular beings?"

"Uh..." Normally Mr. Brotch tended to have a laid back attitude, but when it came to lessons the guy was a little strict on attention to lessons. James thanked Jesus for his knowledge on Science in that moment. "Multicellular beings are...like...organisms...usually, if not a part of a living being...that has multiple cells - where is Unicellular beings are creatures...like...uh..." Curse the class's eyes on him. He knew this by heart, but he hated being the center of attention - it always made him nervous. "...uh...Proto...proto..." ( _ **Fuck!** )_ "...zones- or like...with..." He slumped down, mumbling the rest. He couldn't handle the glances his way - it only made his ears and cheeks aflame with blood and sent him into something he could attribute to a possible cause of cardiac arrest. 

"You're going to have to speak up, Mr. LeDeaux."

"...cell..." He squeaked out, causing the whole class to be sent into an uproar. 

Aside from Amata, who looked embarrased on his behalf, pity in her eyes-

...

That made him feel worse than the jackal-like laughter howling against his ears from his peers.

"Quiet-" Edwin called, giving them all a 'hush now' expression. He sighed; "In point, Mr. LeDeaux is - by definition - correct - but there is so much more to it than this..." 

Normally James would listen a lot better, Science was his favourite subject after-all...barring the occasional art classes - but he just wished he could become a unicellular organism and be as unnoticed as a common piece of Algae, in that moment. He cursed his brain, cursed his inability to handle social interaction, and mostly...cursed Butch. Bastard probably hoped he'd turn like that...

He shot a glare at Butch, whom was staring at him intently. What, did he expect him to spontaneously start screaming and run around the room?

Because James was pretty sure that's the only thing more embarrassing than being made a fool of in front of the entire class of peers...

Not that there wasn't like - at most - maybe 10 people in the entire classroom...

But still!

And the bastard had the gall to top it off by pointing at the damn airplane he sent his way. James huffed up for a second, taking the offending piece of paper and starting to crumple it up; he was ready to throw it straight at Butch's STUPID ( ** _gorgeous_ -**) mug whenever class ended for the day...when he noticed writing on the blighter. Gritting his teeth, he realized he was WAY to nice for his own good as soon as his hands started opening the not-so-neatly folded paper. On the inside, messy cursive gave barely legible instructions to go to the Atrium after curfew.

And...whyyyy the hell would he trust Butch?

...

...admittedly he was a little curious...

But it was probably all just a set up to hang him up by his underwear and wait until one of the officers found him there. Lord knows Butch was the kind of asshole who'd lure somebody into something like that.... 

* * *

 

It was somewhere around **8pm** when James got sent into the shared room by his father, the vault door sliding down behind him like a cage door closing on a chimpanzee. Aside from Amata, whom had been busy with a 'girls day' with the other women of the vault (which was basically just all the females ages 13 upwards sitting around and drinking tea, being forced to socialize with their peer group whether they enjoyed it or not), he really didn't have anybody to talk to so his night had consisted of him pacing around the kitchen looking sullen until his father had gotten tired of the pity party. This basically amounted to James Senior shoving some random gears and wires into his hand and shooing him into the room to 'use his brain for something productive'. Admittedly, it was just the doctor's way of giving the teenager a positive outlet rather than let him sulk around the twenty foot (at maximum) kitchen-slash-living quarters all night until curfew at 9.

Technically, James could have just gone outside...wandered around the halls; but that probably would have made him just as isolated as sticking around the house whilst his father filled out sheet after sheet of medicinal reports. Occasionally James Senior brought home some work from the office, just to spend time around his son and keep an eye on him. This had been routine since James Jr was somewhere around five years of age, but as the years wore on James became more independent and his name-sake father became more of a tolerated prescience. I mean, it wasn't like James didn't absolutely look up to his father like a hero - but teenagers started to chafe when their parent/parents lingered around them. 

 _'You'll get over it, son. I was your age, too, once.'_  James senior had told him the first time the teen had started looking uncomfortable around his father's prescience late at night. Of course, James Jr. was just too sweet of a kid to tell his father otherwise, but the man always seemed to know too well what was on his child's mind. Perhaps it was because - sight and sound - they were so similar...perhaps it was for other reasons, which just were unspoken and came with wisdom of age and parenting....

James wouldn't deign to question his father, not in this at any rate.

So, with a sigh and nothing else to do inside a crowded vault dwelling - James spread the wires and metallic mechanisms out over his desk. It was short while later that he found his brain blanking for ideas, in which he started just messing around with his Pip Boy. Not with the mechanisms, mind you - no - James knew better than to do anything dire to his precious Pip Boy 3000. Besides the fact that it's age wasn't compatible with the kind of gears his father handed over (which were barely in tact, mind you - they probably came from old storage closets his father had Jonas clean out earlier in the week) - Stanley was forced to check up on everyone's Pip-Boy, once in a while, and report things to the overseer. It was somewhat a breech of privacy, but that was how it was in the vault. If you weren't the overseer, you were treated with paranoia and fear. So if they found anything modified in his 3000, they'd instantly start wanting to point fingers as to the 'whys'. And although if Amata was the overseer (which she was on the track to become it - that much was obvious from light years away) she'd probably just brush it off as 'a typical James move', say something along the lines of ' _You can't leave tech alone, huh, brainiac?'_ ; Alphonse, though, would probably try and ring his neck...or order Wally's father to do it. And if somebody asked questions he'd probably blame it on 'the good of the vault, for insubordination cannot be tolerated'.

His fingers kept rotating the dial, pressing one red button after the next as he navigated random screens for nothing more than just trying to entertain his eyes.

 **8:43** , now.

_Limbs on the up._

**8:44.**

_Oh look - a smudge....bye little smudge._

**8:45.**

_Baseball cap...wait...that's in his closet._

_Damn thing didn't fit anymore, anyways..._

**8:46.**

"FUCK!" James covered his face and leaned back, internally screaming out his lungs. 

"Language-" He heard from the other room, informing him that despite the well-endowed door of metal, his father could still garner a tant amount of insight into his activities. Then again...he did shout a profanity at the top of his lungs, what does he anticipate from that?

A sigh left James to rise from his chair and send him across the room with barely responsive legs. He felt like a robot, not so much like a Mr. Handy per-say - just...in the sense that he was moving and not really directing. Like his programming was just telling him to go one direction and the next from sheer boredom. It took him two minutes more of pacing before his arms flopped out behind him on the bed. It was then, that he decided he would just try and sleep.

* * *

 

**9:24**

He couldn't. At some point it went silent in the other room, James assumed his father either fell asleep at the table, again, or he went back to the office for a late night run. Those late nights had been happening quite frequently lately, but James couldn't place his finger on the 'whys' of it. He didn't really think to hard on it, granted, as it really wasn't his business. But he was...semi curious on occasion...

There was suddenly a knock on the window of his room, which was just all fine and dandy except it was well past curfew so all of his friends (oh wait, Amata was his only friend, scratch that-) wouldn't be out by now...

Or...

Shouldn't be, at any rate.

Scrubbing his features he got up and stretched, back extended and arms dangling above his head for a few seconds before he finally settled into a more normal routine of rotating his arms in order to get rid of the mild groggy sensation lingering from attempting to sleep.

Key word here being  **Attempting** -

Surprisingly the song 'Ode to Sleep' came to his mind in that moment.

Damnit Twenty-One Pilots, why do you have to be _so_ dang catchy?

He fumbled about for his glasses for a moment, slipping them over his nose and throwing the covers off to the side, before his cognition kicked in well enough to register that Butch-fother-mucking-DeLoria was sitting there on the other side of the glass looking all-too-proud of himself. His expectations of Amata Almodavar went clear out the (no pun intended-) window upon the sight, causing his brain to kick in with the sound of (what could be attributed to) glass breaking (again...no pun intended). Simple shock bled into his imagination, which...by the way was considerably vast. It was expected that he'd end up working in science, not only due to his vast knowledge of tech - but probably partially due to his info in regards to the general subject (physical, metaphysical, or otherwise-).

Anger lit up his features for a split second, but was quickly replaced by confusion in the wake of this being the first time he's ever been called upon by the male. 

Pushing forward and lifting himself off the lovely ( ** _FRICKEN HARD ASS...DAMNIT VAULT TEC_** -) white bed, his bare feet carried him over to the square window. When he made it there, Butch jerked his finger towards the direction of the door, then quickly ducked off to leave James looking suddenly bewildered. With the old 'can't beat 'em join 'em' phrasing in mind, James followed the idiom's suggestion and headed towards the door of his shared dorm. With a peak to check on whether his father was present, he quickly hustled towards the controls and pressed the button to release the latches. Butch's stupid ( ** _amazing-_** ) grin greeted his aqua hues, and with blue meeting blue there was a spark of tension neither could ignore. A few beats of silence past, in which James hated himself for looking so deep into the male's eyes. Homosexuality wasn't frowned upon in the Vault per-say, but the 'good of the vault' meant 'procreation', and sexual contact between males didn't provide newborns. Maybe in another world, where fantasy was a dang thing and everybody could run around doing whatever they wanted - sure. Men could get pregnant, animals stood on two legs (and talked), everybody fucked, and most super mutants valued human life-

But this was just that, fantasy.

This was reality, and no men could give birth. The closest they ever came was artificial insemination, which was really saved only for androids and robotic mechanisms. Although they probably had the technology to create life, the wasteland was just filled with too many issues (like water, for one-) to start making humans from tanks-

The point of all the rambling was simple:

Homosexuality wasn't a concern (and pretty much hadn't been since the early 21st century-), but the Vault REQUIRED you to give to the gene pool. This pretty much annexed any chance of gay relationships working out without some query as to 'cheating' being involved. And...well...there were times when marriages were nulled, forcing men to be with women they didn't like in an attempt for procreation. It was all very backwards, but what wasn't with Vault Tec?

Or...the world....

In general.

"What are you doing here?!" James finally hissed, breaking the stupid long tension, in the air.

Butch seemed to blink out of the trance, too, filling his features with a grin again. "Well...you didn't come, nosebleed."

There was an innuendo there, but James missed it; "Do you know how much trouble you'd be in if you were caught talking with me right now-?"

"Three weeks in the ol' warden's pen. Lock, shock,  barrel. But that's why we're not gettin' caught." Smug bastard sounded so proud of himself.

James almost screeched the word 'we' before reminding himself to take a breath and calm down. Rather than squealing the single word, the caucausian grit his teeth, brushing fingers through his swept-back long hair and narrowing his blue orbs. "What do you mean  _we-_?"

"Wat'chu thinkin' I came here for a night-cap?" Butch's voice suggested irritation, James didn't need to look into his scrunched up features. Which was probably good, because James was keeping his eyes averted since he got hypnotized in those aqua hues of the Serpant King's. The adult idiom didn't help either, only brightening the red ears of poor lil' Jim so fast you could have sworn his DNA was shifting from radiation. "Come on, Nosebleed." Butch clasped James's wrist, dragging his poor ass along whether the Doc's son objected, or not.

 Which he did; "H-Hey!" 

Butch hissed at him, "Quiet, twirp. You wanna get us caught?" The greaser led his (Friend?) enemy (Crush?) down the hallway, blue eyes sharp for any sight of the Vault's security officers. If it was Officer Gomez that caught them, he'd probably shoo them back into their respective dorms and brush it off as their just being 'kids'....but if someone like officer Kendell or Mack caught them wandering out, and about, they'd crack down so fast James wouldn't know what hit them (probably quite litterally).

"Where are we going?" James asked, looking affronted and flustered from being drug down several halls.

"Kid, if you don't shut up you're gunna get us fuckin' capped." Butch mentioned impatiently, nose scrunching up as he pressed back against a corner, barely inching his head out over the edge. James vaguely remembered an old Video Game he came across in a forbidden hall once, back when he was more adventurous, that would bring up a startling '!' during 'sneak mode', should you get spotted by an enemy. It was a vague memory, and the only reason why it breached his consciousness was due to his prescience around Butch. Why around Butch, you ask? Well...there was a time...when they did get along years ago. They got into a shit-ton of mischief together, but James grew up faster than the Tunnel Snake. Or perhaps...they just grew up in two very different ways.

James took after his father, but he kept his nose cleaner - learned to...maybe because he had to look out for himself in a viper's den of Onlookers and Officers, all looking for his neck. Having a father that obviously wasn't born in the vault could do that to a person, even if James himself believed was born within the walls, from all accounts (he wasn't, but that was a story for another time).

Butch grew up with a drunk mother, no father, and multitudinous reasons to be spiteful and hate the confined walls around him. Perhaps he was partially inclined to hate the environment because of his particular set of interests, too, but the world had forced him down into the place he was, quite a bit. On one hand, he was the 'good looking bad boy' that probably attracted the wrong kind of attention. On the other? He was whom he was, he'd been given more than a few tough breaks across the years. 

But James and Butch were close once, very close in fact. When they were taking baby steps, James Jr. would hang around Butch even more than Amata at times. There were times when James would hang off of Butch's black jacket and fall asleep on his legs when they were still in playpens; all S.P.E.C.I.A.L books, nuka cola trucks, and small stuffed bears....

James still had his stuffed bear. He never told anyone about it....but Kenny Enny (named for Kenetic Energy, don't ask James why - it was just something that stuck) was still sitting in his room locker - tucked away between two different sets of Vault suits. Of course, he kept the bear because of his anxiety disorder, which was a little secret between him and his father. If anybody else asked, James SR. took the place as the fall-man and claimed he kept it for sentimental value. But this is all digression. Finally, after several winding paths and close calls where James almost started crying (because lets face it, he was not the sneaking type - and he was terrified of the trouble he could get into), they made it to a set of walls with a tight space between the two. It was probably big enough for a human to get through, if they sucked it up or were on the lithe side. Since Butch was stalky, it surprised James that the male easily got through the broken spot in the metallic panel. James came to the conclusion that he must have a tant amount of practice at the activity, and lord knows there were weirder stories of humans fitting into unusual places. Lord knows if someone could be fit into a small box, a foot wide space wasn't completely out of the question....

James swallowed and thanked the lord above for his lithe form, in that moment. There was an old pre-war word for what he looked like, one synonomous with the homosexual community. Not that he wasn't as gay as the dick was long - but he still resented the adjective. 

'Twink'

And he was definitely that, despite his objections to the contrary.

But someone could be small and not be practiced enough to fit through tight spaces - and this became a problem as soon as James had made it about 3/4ths of the way through. Butch looked displeased, one hand holding onto James as he tried tugging him the rest of the way through. After a sharp tug, James made a cry and winced; "OW! Ow...Butch, stop! You're gunna dislocate my arm! How am I supposed to explain that to my father?!" When the Tunnel Snake let his partner-in-crime go, the male looked displeased. 

James sighed in relief, unable to rub his arm due to being so thoroughly stuck - but rolling it as far as the metal would allow his shoulder blade to rock. 

"Fuckin' great. You would get yo' ass stuck in a damn wall." Butch huffed, eye twitching. "Fuckin' great, Nosebleed."

James looked ticked off, but only muttered incomprehensible words rather than openly biting Butch with verbiage. "Well I didn't anticipate going through a damn wall..." There was a huff of indignance that came from the blonde, blue eyes ice cold, lips twitching like he'd encountered something relatively unpleasant upon the seat of his toilet. The expression was all accompanied by his nose being scrunched up so much he looked like a cute angry kitten...

James liked cats, by the way. 

Later in life he would own a Dog, but his favourite of the two, in the age old debate, were cats...

Butch's expression twisted up into amusement at the look. James was far too sensitive to look that angry, and his features even seemingly reflected that in the curvature of his features. The grandmother type would lean down and pinch his cheeks, asking him if he wanted a cookie to make him feel better - but Butch just found himself laughing at the look. It only infuriated James more, whom only had his left shoulder sticking out of the metalic wall. "WHAT?" He barked, looking pissy.

Butch calmed himself long enough to grin like a maniac; "You're disgustingly cute when you get angry."

James puffed up his cheeks, but the way his features expanded only proved Butch's point further. "Y-Yeah?" Despite the front, his ears had lit up at being called 'cute' in any capacity by Butch DeLoria, "W-well....you're...you're...oh whatever. Can you just get me out of here, please?"

"Not sure I can. You're gunna have'ta get yourself out, half-pint." The greaser grinned cockily, turning his head to the side. 

James sighed, trying to wrack his brain for any way to get past the rock and litteral hard place he'd been planted within. "....Well....okay, this is basic physics, right..." As he started pondering it, Butch pipped up with his own little input. 

"Isn' there 'n old phrase...thing for whachu are? Som'n about an unmovable...somethin' acted upon by like, a super force-"

"You mean an Immovable Object colliding with an Unstoppable Force? That old idiom isn't true..." James mused aloud, "Neither exist. If there is an unstoppable force, there couldn't be an immovable object and vice versa. An immovable object would have to have infinite inertia, and therefore infinite mass...."

"You really are a fuckin' egg head, Nosebleed." Butch looked too smug, James wanted to take a shot at him but he knew he'd end up just rolling over on his belly to avoid confrontation after the initial blast of temper.

"SHUT it, DeLoria." A sigh, then he blinked and nodded. "Well this is really simple...if we think about it...the thing keeping me here is the Friction between the two walls and my own body, so...if we use base common knowledge of Tribology....we just lubricate the edges of the walls - and I should slide right through!!" He nodded rapidly, as if backing his own analogy up. 

"...You think I fuckin' keep lubrication in my backpocket, dickwad?" Butch tapped his foot impatiently, leveling an icy stare towards the LeDeaux child. But behind his wall, there was a minor flush to his cheeks that James easily spotted. He was perceptive, it didn't take him much to recognize subtle clues - even if he wasn't very social and didn't entirely know how to respond to them. What you saw, and how you know to react - were two very different realms of psychology...

"I didn't..." He blushed bright. "Uhm...I know...where...you might get some...."

One black eyebrow raised up over sharp features; "Problem, Nosebleed. This is a closed off section of the Vault. Even my knowledge of Computers won' get us out from this part of the Attrium."

"...Well fuc- wait...you know a lot about computers?"

"...I...uh....pet project, but, yeah, I mean - whatever. It's...jus' som'n I do on occasion, no big." Butch lit up like the emergency lights of the Vault, now, which was - if you asked James (which you did, or you wouldn't be reading), quite....

Cute.

Butch didn't seem to like to draw attention to that for very long, very rapidly shifting the focus of the conversation back to the current dilemma; "Is there any way you can just...you know, back yo' ass up?" Yet again, the innuendo flew over James's head. Sometimes he was way too innocent for his own good...

 

James's features lit up again, nose scrunched; "It's harder for the human body to go backwards, Butch. If I can't go forward, there's no way I'm gunna be able to pull myself backwards..." A sigh interupted his train of thought, and then a blush crept over his features. "...I...I know a way to get lube."

Butch perked up, eyes on James as the other averted his gaze.

"I-It's..." James shook his head; "No, nevermind. Forget that."

Butch raised an eyebrow, again, way too curious to let that one slide. "NO fuckin' way, cuz I'm stuck in here as much as yo' ass is."

"....well...t-the obvious way...is...bodily fluid....and I mean...silivia isn't produced in l-large enough quantities to do the job..."

Butch probably sat there way longer than he should have to catch up, but when he did his cheeks flooded and eyes glinted. Which was not the reaction James was anticipating. He expected the 'disgusting, that's fucking disgusting' that would normally accompany a situation like this. It surprised him way too much that Butch grinned and came forward, already starting to unzip his suit. "Well, it ain' exactly what I had in mind...but end results work, anyways, shitface."

"Wait...what?"

"Whatchu thinkin' I just invited you out here to drink soda and fuckin' act like an idiot?" Butch tilted his head, dropping his beloved Tunnel Snake Jacket off to the side of the two. "Nah. I've had my eyes on you for a lil' while, pipsqueek-"

"W-what?!" His voice was elevated, now. He highly anticipated this to turn around into 'you're a freak' and 'there's no way this would happen in a million years i'm straight as my switchblade', not 'oh yeah by the way I invited you to fuck me'. Or...oh god, it was probably the other way around-

Poor James's lil' rear end.

James was at a complete loss for words by the time Butch came forward and tapped on his chin, coaxing slightly. "Look....I ain't ever done this shit before...but...lately I've been havin' this shit in my head, ya know? Like...soon as I hit 14, it was all fuckin' up in smoke. I thought I was into chicks, you know, like Christine? I wanted to tap her so fuckin' hard, but then...one day I woke up and I started lookin' at yo' ass too. And Freddies, and fuck - it was just all ova. But mostly, yours." James was consistently turning more red, barely registering the monologue as he watched Butch pull back his half-open Vault Suit and reach down into his boxers. James's 'uhuh' was born of his mouth watering, shock bleeding into lust and lust bleeding into arousal...it was all over the banner of hormonal; "Fuck...you should see your face, Nosebleed..." Butch's voice was gratuitously hoarse, filled to the brim with strain and lust. 

The tone made James clamp his mouth shut, blush overtaking his cheeks and causing him to scrunch up his features with embarrassment.

"H-how are we gunna do this shit? Huh? Talk, fuckhead- Cuz as much as I like ya starin' like that, you gotta tell me how to get yo' ass unstuck so I can do so much fuckin' more to it-" The statement made James squeak, causing him to wiggle a little. The sound was innocent and it made Butch's eyes narrow and expression light with glee. "Disgustin'ly cute, like I fuckin' said...." His palm was already on his member, rubbing back and forth with a delighted expression. It was surprising how much he got off on James's innocence. Twisted and perverted perhaps, but it was consensual, right? So it wasn't hurting anything...

"W-well...just..." James struggled to put it into words now; "...when you...you know- try and aim it along the walls where I'm stuck...."

"When I what, kid? I thought you were good with words 'n shit. Aren't you the smart fuck? Tell me...cuz I need instruction, here-" Butch knew damn well what, but he wanted James to say it. He wanted that cute little tenor of James' to say the filthy words he blushed at the mere mention of.

"...y-you know!" James turned more red, cocking his head up to protest until he saw Butch's expression. The look was hooded and dominant and it went straight to James's own length, blood rushing with a rapid flash of hormones and heat. The teenager swallowed roughly and found his mouth dry out instantaneously. He fumbled for words, eyes glancing down towards where Butch was stroking his hardened cock. It protruded gloriously, standing at what had to be a great 7 inches, at least - possibly over at it's current full mast. The sight made James's own length, smaller - but not insignificant, harden up to the fullest extent and rub painfully against the blue spandex and wall beyond. He could feel a slight stain of precum already pooling against the blue and yellow fabric of his attire, causing a cool shiver to run down his spine. 

"Come on, kid, this is all new to me remember-? You gotta be clear...say...it....say. IT. Tell me what you fuckin' want from me..." The tone was an octave lower than Butch's voice usually rang in at, insight into the level of arousal he felt for James. A soft squeak came from the blonde's lips, a small spot between the sound and the statement that came shortly after the greaser's instructions.

"Y-You're...you're-"

"Yeah?"

"You're cum..."

The blush that came up over the blonde's ears was too cute for Butch to handle, and a lick of his lips signaled a single word command to follow. "Open." He pushed against the smaller's jaw, cock throbbing and precum already dripping along his fingers. James scrunched his eyes closed and opened his lips, but when nothing breached the premises of his mouth one of his eyes came open slightly for a confused peak to the taller of the two. What he saw in his right eye was a man giving him an almost malevolent expression, causing confusion to spread over his features. Fear trickled up into his spine, making his hair stand on end near the back of his neck. It was natural, nervous system kicking in as he squirmed in his compromised position. Fight or flight, they called it.

James tended to favour flight, even if he had attitude without meaning to, on occasion.

Despite this, James didn't lose his arousal in the slightest - it was heightened if anything.  ** _I guess I learned something about myself, today._**

He didn't have too much time to ponder this thought over, as Butch was starting to run his fingers along the upper end of James's vault zipper. "You a scrawny lil' fuck, under this, Nosebleed? All brains, no brawn? I betchu get off on this shit, being dominated by som'n much bigger than your ass, pushin' ya down and fuckin' you senseless..." The grin was far too smug for James's liking, and he gave him a defenseless glare. But the expression only made the Tunnel Snake's eyes twinkle, completely unfazed. "You're such a lil twisted fuck-" 

James wanted to snarl, to bark back something in response to the statement - but his voice was completely lost. All his life, despite his shy nature, he'd always known the limit. He had his own style of _nerd rage_ , when in a pinch. And it wasn't exactly like he couldn't get shit done. Even if he had social ineptitude and anxiety, he was intelligent and worked through problems despite the obstacles. Generally, he was a self-sufficient being, even if he relied on those around him for support - especially with his anxiety. But in this moment, a little part of him he'd never knew was there, was rapidly surfacing. It was like a split personality, something clawing its way out of chains and pushing to the top of his consciousness. He wanted....

No.

Needed-

He needed Butch, wanted to be dominated - the thought of what Butch had said:

' _dominated by som'n much bigger than your ass, pushin' ya down and fuckin' you senseless_ '-

It was true-

**_(God it was true-)_ **

"Suck, _bitch_ -" The greaser pushed his cock forward, jutting his hips towards the open maw and forcing his length down into the confines of James's hot throat. The blonde gagged, features scrunching up as his body wiggled awkwardly. Since there wasn't much room to maneuver for him, he felt very trapped. It wasn't like he wasn't enjoying it in the slightest, but the natural instincts (underneath the surface of human nature) were urging him to wiggle away, to run, and he couldn't. Butch roughly managed to grab the back of his head, slipping his fingers within the tangled blonde waves. Pushing his cock further, despite James's gagging audio, the Serpent King scrapped his fingernails into the other's hair and began thrusting. The motion was relentless and James could barely get his barrings enough to start breathing through his nose. Cheeks flushed, the younger tried clasping onto something, anything. He was some-what suspended, having gotten caught on a pipe - and it was awkward and flailing - only an arm and half his upper torso sticking out - neck twisted in order to accommodate Butch's length. It didn't make the breathing easier, either - body convulsing from oxygen loss and yet cock pounding against the fabric of his vault suit. Admittedly, he was getting off on this - even if it hurt and god he felt like he was suffocating...

He was hard, and this was hot to James.

"Yeah, who's your daddy?" Butch grated out, growling with pleasure at the sight of the trapped male choking on his dick. 

**_(Oh god- never say that again, please Butch-)_ **

"You like my fat dick? _Huh?_   You like being roughed up like this? Is that why you always provoked me, as a kid? I bet you got off on me beatin' yo' ass to the curb, huh? Fuckin' liked bein' pounded - In more ways than one..." James felt Butch's fingernails dig into his scalp, and hard. The sensation was like someone took a rake to the back of his head, and if there was blood starting to bubble up into his hair - he wouldn't have been surprised. "Yeah- choke on my cock...that's all you're good for." A shutter ripped through James's spine again, Butch's filthy words going straight to his own length - throbbing and desperate.

But that cock wasn't about to get attention until he got out, and god did he ever want out. He wanted to scream at Butch, tell him to fuck him in every way possible - which just wasn't normally in James's nature. James was the sweet, innocent type - the worst he'd ever done to this point was spill out the food rations onto the floor when he was a kid, to which he started crying. But here? Trapped in the wall and being so brutally fucked in the face? He wanted nothing more than to beg Butch in every filthy way possible - squirm, wiggle, put his ass up for the world to see. He wanted Butch to do exactly as he previously threatened to do - dominate him. James wanted to beg for Butch's cock, wanted to try every gay Kama Sutra position, just to try it with the Greaser. It was a whole new side to him he'd never seen before...

The blonde wiggled desperately, and pushed and pulled - trying to get through the wall and towards Butch. It was of no avail, despite his lithe form he was too stuck to get to the man he wanted so desperately. The only thing he managed was a small, teasing friction to his cock. The greaser grinned smugly; "Aww, you want Daddy, don'cha?" ( ** _FUCKS SAKE BUTCH-_** ) "Want my big dick? You want the REAL Tunnel Snake..." ( ** _GOD DAMNIT BUTCH YOU MANAGED TO MAKE IT WORSE-_** ) 

James leveled a glare up towards the male, trying to tell him to knock it off - but was quickly taken aback when he saw how flushed Butch's cheeks were. God, the male was really enjoying James like this...

The expression wasn't the only thing 'coming' to James's attention though, for suddenly Butch pulled out. "So you wanna be splattered by my cum, huh? Betchu set this up so you could be covered in my seed. Are you really stuck in there, or do you just want my cum?" James bit his lip from Butch's rhetorical questions, watching as the Male gave himself a few more strokes and had his breath hitch. The sticky white globs came in waves, Butch doing the best he could to aim it towards a wall. The metallic panels became coated in it, the substance sliding down towards where James's arm was trapped between himself and the silver, slightly rusty metal. James desperately wiggled, trying to hitch himself up so as to slide the liquid across his arm and squeeze through. It didn't work as well as he anticipated, but it did manage to dislodge his arm which was enough he could use his extremities to push himself over the metal pipe. 

When James sprawled awkwardly down, kicking his leg through the rest of the hole - he gave a meek sound of fatigue. It was relief to not be stuck there anymore, but his cock was still very much at attention and that was rapidly becoming painful. He'd heard the old expression for what he was experiencing - 'blue balls'. When a male went too long without being pleased, it became agonizing. But James didn't have to wait too long, Butch was on him as soon as he managed to take a loud breath of relief. The male was already half naked and wanton for the tired-looking Blonde. "Oh, you think you're fuckin' done? You haven't even begun." Butch gave him a shit-eating grin which made James want to level a glare, but the emotional reaction lasted only about a second longer; for Butch's fingers worked the yellow zipper down and was already starting to push open and expose James to the air. "Oh yeah, you are a fuckin' pipsqueek-"

"S-Shut it, D-DeLoria!" James desperately tried to hold anger, but it didn't work. The sound was too shaky to sound, in any way shape or form, threatening.

"Awww~ Is my lil' bitch gunna cry?" Butch cooed fakely, and although James normally would have angrily pushed the greaser off and retorted - he couldn't help notice the emphasis on 'my'. Instead of his natural inclination, his features flooded with more red than they ever had been coated with in his life, even going back to the first time he ever saw a dick. It was just Butch-fother-muckin'-DeLoria's (™) style of dirty talk. Just as much as James got off on being dominated, Butch got off on degradation....

 _Fuck_ , maybe they were more alike and more right for each-other, than they ever could have imagined.

"Disgustingly cute." Butch went down, hands pinning James's above his head and planting a rough, bruising kiss upon his lips. Between bite-marks and bruises left from Butch's teeth: the male looked disheveled by the time the Tunnel Snake leader pulled himself back. "But you're still givin' attitude. Which means you need to be reminded just who ya' belong too." Yet again, another dominant expression settled over the brunet - causing him to lean down and suckle harshly upon James' throat. 

"B-Butch! No- S-Someone'll see it! I'll get in trouble-" But James was just too easily persuaded, his erogenous zone was on his neck and it made him moan and undulate. Tilting his head slightly, James clenched his eyes closed at the bright red mark Butch was leaving on the male's throat.

"Good." Butch mentioned in response, and he meant it. From here on out, Butch wanted to make the world know that James was his - AND ONLY - his. And if anybody tried to do anything, they were going to have a pissed off Tunnel Snake to deal with. And nobody, and I mean nobody, messes with the Tunnel Snakes. Let alone, their Serpent King...

The smaller male gasped, leaning back his head and twisting it to the side, fully (this time). James's teeth came down on the bottom portion of his already well bruised lip. Writhing, rather uselessly, the vault dweller was unable to fight back as Butch's lips slid down towards the perked bud on the blonde's left pectoral. By the time the Greaser had given it full attention, James was left a pitiful mess of need and arousal. Grinning up from his place above the male (okay, more sneering if we're all perfectly honest) Butch's blue orbs narrowed, nostrils flaring up; "You're a fuckin' mess, Nosebleed..."

"Sh-shut up!" James wasn't much of a verbal fighter anyways, let alone when his mind was clouded with wanton stimulation - natural acumen gone in the wake of pleasure. It occurred to James belatedly that Butch probably enjoyed reducing him to a wriggling pile of need. 

"Dis-gust-in'-ly cute." He reiterated for the umpteenth time, dark laugh trickling across James's torso. To call the spot James's abdominal muscles was a mildly stretched adjective; he was all lithe edges and indented celiacs. His father once tested him for celiac wasting disease, but he didn't have it. James just naturally had a soft form...

This was a sore spot on the too-be-Lone-Wanderer's ego. Butch would become the only one to get away with calling him 'pipsqueek', but that is a story for later in time. The blonde huffed impatiently, glaring slightly; "I don' know about these things, but aren'cha **supposed** to do _something_ besides tal-" Butch's hand silenced his lips, a harsh weight coming down as the brunet's snarling features filled his vision. The expression made James squeek into the hard, large palm - all wide ice-blue eyes and surprised features.

A vicious tone of voice, dangerous and low, went straight to James's length; "Did ya fuckin' hear me speak to you?!" The too-be-barber's lips twitched back into a cool (all be it collected) look, "You're gunna have ta drop this bullshit attitude. You listen _TO ME_. And you _BELONG_ to me. If I want som'n from ya, I can take it. Your virgin ass. Your mouth. Whateva. I can take it, and you're just gunna be a good lil Nosebleed and let me. No fuckin' talkin' back. No fuckin' attitude. You're my bitch, from now on. And the more you resist, the less you get..."

Fear showed up in James's eyes, genuine and real. Part of him was terrified of his new side to Butch he'd never seen, but some twisted second half wanted to please this...dominant...this...this crazed Butch....

With those wild cerulean hues and snarling jowls....

With the calloused, bruised hands (probably from god knows how many fights) pushing down forcefully upon him...

Some, weird portion of him wanted to please this Butch. Wanted to be taken like this, even if it was wrong and sick and god - if anybody saw this they'd probably gag from horror. James had no name for what this was, but he wanted more of it - even despite his very tangible fear. Butch lifted his hand back, testing the waters with James as he watched him expectantly. What surprised the smaller, was the small voice that rang, almost like a foreign, distant bell, from his lips; "Y...yes, Butch. I...I'm sorry..."

The greaser's fingers leaned down to pinch the blonde's chin, thumb brushing back and forth with a more tender mannerism than the shamefully harmful gesture, of the fore; "Call me sir." Despite the softness of his touch, his voice was still very masterful, very gruff. He had dominion, and he needed James to know that despite the praise. This was all psychological, and it seemed Butch had completely control over the reigns for the first time in their rivalry (friendship? relationship?). With this established, Butch shifted his weight down and sat upright along the wall. The eight inch was still standing at full attention, and Butch's hand was listlessly rubbing it up and down. "Come." He commanded, but the dual meaning wasn't for ejaculation - not yet. It shouldn't have surprised James that he stumbled over himself (quite literally) in an attempt to follow Butch's commands. When he finally managed to get up towards the Tunnel Snake, he raised his head and looked at him submissively - glacier-like hues wide. If eyes were a window to the soul, then his was readily willing to be crushed by Butch if he asked. It was like Butch had clasped some rope, James had never even discovered, wrapping his strong hand around it so tightly that James submitted like a dog on a leash. 

"Bu-...s-sir?" He asked, the single title a multitudinous query.

Understanding perfectly, the dom pulled his sub closer onto his lap - fingers jerking the male in a capacity that caused him to straddle Butch. The blonde's lithe fingers came down upon Butch's chest, marveling at the hardened muscles from years of fights and work outs. "Like it, lil' bitch?" James found his head bobbing up and down, rapidly, without his control. It caused a deep chuckle to rip from the other's lips, shaking his chest and causing his eight inch to brush lightly against James's own balls. It made the smaller bite his lip again, almost making it bloody with how many teeth had come down upon it now. But that was a secondary concern to Butch, who reached out his left hand and held dry digits to the blonde's lips. "Suck. Wet 'em or you'll regret it. Cuz I ain't goin' easy." The small sound that came from James made Butch's chest swell with circulating warmth and pride, the feeling spreading down straight to his waiting, still hardened cock. Butch's lips spread into another dominantly gleeful grin as James quickly popped the dominant's fingers into his mouth. James was inexperienced, stumbling over suckling and wetting them down without knowledge of the 'whys' involved. 

When Butch felt it was enough, he pulled his fingers out with a wet pop and used his other palm to prop the more submissive, further up. It didn't take much to find the red ring of muscles, but pushing them in made James squeak and squirm - almost causing him to pull away before Butch gave his hip a painful, warning squeeze. 

Finally James just pushed his head down into the side of Butch's neck and whimpered, sounding painfully pitiful. Yet, it was only music to Butch's ears, encouraging him to stretch out his anal cavity and press another digit within; "You are r'lly tight, lil bitch." He ghosted his breath over James's shoulder, sneering in that Butch-futha-muckin'-DeLoria (™) mannerism. "I can feel every damn muscle clenchin' against my fingers....hot lil' bitch with your tight lil virgin asshole. But you want the Butch-man, doncha? Want my length in you, want to be stretched..." The blonde whimpered, holding tightly to the greaser as he nodded - unable to deny that he wanted Butch, even if he was inexperienced and didn't entirely know what to expect...it didn't change his need for the male.

"Fuck-" Butch pushed in the third finger, scissoring him open and causing a shiver to run up James's spine from the cold air breaching his previously untouched cavity. The tight warmth tried clenching together, again, naturally - causing Butch to put his best effort in to resist. James could have cried, and not entirely from the pain of being stretched in a new way. No, it was due to just how overwhelming the feelings were - pleasurable pain radiating outwards into his belly and spreading out like the air from a heater. It swelled in his stomach and caused him to wiggle, a soft sound of impatience tangled with need. Butch let it slide, it seemed, or perhaps he was just too wrapped up in trying to prep James to notice the insubordination.

It took an agonizing period of time (so long to James, he swore the entire vault could've rusted away and been rebuilt...) before Butch got four fingers within James's pain stricken asshole. When the finality of it hit, Butch grinned devilishly before his hand pushed in fully. Having never been subjected to fisting before, James started mewling and tensing - almost crying out from the pain. Not only was he a virgin, but he was fisting on his first time - barely lubbed, and that damn well hurt. He clenched his teeth into Butch's shoulder, giving the male splotches of blood along the man-made wound. Butch snarled and jerked his palm out, glaring "Fuck. Smart mouth jus' not busy enough?" The hood didn't even wait for an answer, by the time James opened his mouth to respond indignantly, Butch had pulled out a large cloth from his pocket and started forcing it in the sub's mouth. Tightening it up, the dominant teenager wrapped the white article around James' head and tied it up, tight. "Sometimes ta train a bitch ya gotta muzzle 'em." 

James looked ticked off, which Butch was having none of. Pressing his palm around the edges of the blonde's jaw, once more, blue eyes pierced the vale of indignant emotion; "You think you're worthy of a fuckin' opinion on the matter, bitch? Keep that shit up, and you'll be bein' fucked raw next time-" James didn't need to be experienced to register the threat, expression shifting to fury; which only generated more dominance from Butch, the greaser's palm shifting back and striking down on James's left cheek. It wasn't an easy blow, and it made James reel. Clasping the slim jaw, once more, the Serpent King pushed his enraged features into the 'submissive's own dazed vision; "That's a warning. Remember, you're fuckin' mine. You do what you're told-"

Something equivalent to a shiver rippled up James' back muscles when the situation was starting to set in. The psychology of domination kicked in again, message well received - perhaps from human self-preservation or otherwise...

Even if Butch was going to far, James felt it out of necessity to discuss that later. He tried apologizing for his quote-on-quote 'misconduct' from the make-shift gag, but he wasn't able to. Butch had made it just tight enough his jaw was cranked open, and just easy enough on his mouth not to cause overwhelming discomfort. But when he moved his jaw it still caused friction. It served it's purpose well...

It was a message.

The gag was to assert 'he belonged to Butch' on a constant basis. 

If he moved his lips, he was reminded of it. If he moved his jaw, he was reminded of it. If he moved his tongue or tried biting down, he was reminded of it...

Butch was a surprisingly masterful male over certain aspects of psychology, which surprised James.

The thought, though, was quickly interrupted when he felt Butch shifting him back up again - closer to his shoulder once more. He moved his weight so casually, like he was a sack of potatoes. Butch was strong and warm- 

Vital-

Dominant-

James finally gave in completely, submitting figuratively (to the psychology) and literally (to Butch). He bent his back, curving to Butch's touch and tucking his head down towards the hood's shoulder-blade, once again. With his hands landing on Butch's chest, again, and his weight complaint - Butch decided it was time to proceed. Spreading out what he'd just prepped, he used his palms to lift up James' body and line his head up with the confines of the blonde's warmth. Pressing forward, he forced his head against the bundle of muscles initially trying to clench around the intrusion. James made a noise against his mouth's bindings, eyes clenched and back muscles rapidly tensing up. "Ah fuck-" Butch's pupils dilated, hues glazing over with pleasure as his 7 inch seethed inside James' hot walls. James panted and mewled, almost sobbing from the feeling. It was so much more intense with a consistent length, not just small digits or a painful fist - a long, thick chunk of meat that filled his ass to it's brim. After Butch felt the cheeks of his compatriot hit down against his balls, the male jutted up and let out a hot breath. "So...fuckin'...tight...damn." Blue hues rolled back against his skull and harsh eyelids slammed closed. 

There was a few seconds, where Butch devoured the feeling of being surrounded by the very barriers inside James - savoured the sensation of being squeezed so tightly. It was a good thing he'd just orgasmed, or he might have seeded right there - filling up James without even having any fun before hand. After Butch caught his breath, the Tunnel Snake opened his hooded eyes and shifted about - laying down on his back. "Alright, bitch. Since you so kindly disobeyed me earlier, why don't you make it up to me, eh? Show how sorry yo'ass really is." A sensual grin filled the dominant's features, hands clasped against James' hips. Blue widened questioningly, not entirely sure what to do. It was a look that didn't need words to express the sentiment. "Go on. Ride me. You wanna have fun with my dick, don'cha?"

James found himself trying to say 'yes sir', but the only thing that came out was a painful (literally) garbled response, muffled and confusing. Butch didn't even blink in confusion, dipping his head with a silent directive. Concerned he was inadequate, but having no way to communicate or anything to do about it, the blonde teenager shifted his weight awkwardly on the length hardened within him. He took a few seconds to reason with the physics behind it, spreading his legs further. After a few beats, he took a breath through his nasal passages and pushed his hands down upon Butch's hardened six pack. With a quick, all be it shuffling, motion - his weight lifted up and he slid down. The first attempt was slow and vexatiously gouche. It looked like a giraffe trying to teach itself to walk on water, and the sight generated amusement in Butch. Although it was floppy and completely unseemly - it almost turned the male on knowing that he was teaching James this. It was, in a way, like he was taking more than his virginity; he was taking his innocence, as well-

_Vile._

_Sinful._

It caused the hood to lick his lips.

 **Delicious** -

The second time was about as uncoordinated, and third time certainly wasn't charming-

But as he breached the fourth slide, James started to get the hang of where his ass should go and his hands should stay. The fifth, now that was when rhythm came in-

Now James was sliding up to Butch's head and slamming down to his balls - riding him without end. His body quaked, cock standing up and ass so raw he could barely register the world around him. The only thing in his vision was how good Butch felt within his walls, how big he was and how amazing he felt going in and-

He screamed into his gag, as something happened. It was seemingly like any other time he went down upon the greaser - the only difference was when his tight muscles slapped wetly against Butch's sack, something burst within side him, spreading outwards with pleasure and overwhelming his senses. He mewled, quaking as his cock throbbed. In that moment, the teen wished he could ask, wished communication was in the deal-

He didn't have to-

"Hit yo' sweet spot, eh, lil slut? I liked that - the way your features contorted and you screamed against that fuckin' gag of yours- fuck yeah..." Butch breathed out, "Do it again- fuck, find that spot again - I wanna see the look you make when you hit it..."

James didn't entirely know what a 'sweet spot' was, but he knew it felt extremely good. Pulling himself up with his hands, the teen slammed down - trying to mimick the same motion; luckily, for him - it worked. Pleasure sparked up again, an arch reactor in his body that lit his senses and spread through every molecule. Another cry-

God he wanted this-

Again-

Again-

And again-

By the fourth time after this he'd gotten used to how to swing his hips, got used to making that _sweet spot_ hit Butch's cock over and over. When it started being thrust repeatedly, against, the stars grew even more wild and untamed. James' vision practically turned white as he rode Butch - so brutal and desperate. It got to a point where he was bouncing with shallow waves, just desperate to feel his cock in him whether it hit that glorious spot or not. He was so horny it drove him mad, so aroused as he watched Butch growl and moan and speak terribly filthy words into the air - humiliating him with terribly degrading names-

He loved it.

Loved every damn second of it-

He wanted to scream and beg into the air, too, wanted to clench onto Butch and moan, beg him-

To what?

He didn't entirely know, but filthy images were already lighting up his neurons. Some that didn't make sense, but all lit him up like the fourth of july-

He felt Butch cum in a growl, filling him up but he didn't stop there. His own hands were clenched onto his cock and as he bounced he desperately tried pumping himself. It felt so good to be filled like this, he wanted more of it-

He came-

But he didn't stop-

It took Butch prying him off, forcing James down onto the floor and holding him in place. "Jesus..." Butch said, unable to help his grin; "You really got fuckin' worked up, huh, Nosebleed?" A finger trailed its way down James's jawline, slowly making itself towards the knot before the other palm joined to untie the cloth. James moved his jaw up and down, adjusting it to not being forced into place. 

"B-Butch?" James looked at him with a tired expression. Late as it was, anyways, they'd probably spent well over the normal time gap they anticipated (or at least James had).

"-Yeah, Nosebleed?"

"....I...I wanna do that again....I'm...tired, right now. But...can we do that...again sometime?" James bit his lip, hoping beyond desperation that this couldn't be a one sided thing. His cheek was swollen, neck marked, and ass leaking with Butch's essence. At the same time this registered, James saw the bite mark along Butch's shoulder and winced (looking more than a little guilty about the result). "I'm so-"

"Don' fuckin finish that sentence. I am not fuckin' sorry this shit happened-" He pressed against the bitemark, knowing exactly what he was talking about; "Now to answer ya other question - you think Imma just let you walk off from this shit? You're mine, now, pipsqueak. You betta fuckin' believe it. Sexual o' not. You're mine." Butch had leaned down, and James about flinched until he felt a soft kiss press against his lips. The tenderness surprised him, Butch didn't seem like the 'soft kisser' type, yet here he was. When they parted, Butch pulled himself back upright and dug up his vault suit and jacket.  The tunnel snake got himself dressed, looking back at his fellow vault dweller. James just sat there all fingers on his lips, wide eyes, and nudity - still coated in his and Butch's jizz. "You brain dead, Nosebleed? Getcha self fuckin' dressed." The greaser looked impatient, ready to move. He was never much of a lingerer, anyways - always a drifter.

"S-Sorry..." James jumped into action, trying to pull his blue suit on (while also trying to ensure the outside wasn't touched by any white liquid).

When James finally managed, they started towards the gap before Butch breathed out a laugh. "Yo'ass gunna get stuck again? Cuz as temptin' as it is to fuck ya anywhere and everywhere - it prob'ly wouldn't be a good idea ta get caught by Offic'a Mack, jizzin' all over the walls 'n shit."

James stumbled and spluttered, looking sheepish enough that it caused Butch to laugh-

"That's not funny!"

"Uhuh, sure Nosebleed-"

**Author's Note:**

> FOR THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW:
> 
> Italics can be attributed to thought process of James, but so can the italicized text within parentheses. That said, single word italics generally constitute as emphasis (meaning the word is either sarcasm or is elongated through simple emphasis) in a particular sentence. Another thing to note however, and this is a big one, is that words italicized and bold - within parentheses - actually are thoughts James has on a particular subject. There will be times in which he contradicts himself internally, and this is what I choose to represent this internal struggle with. HOWEVER - there are certain exceptions, usually accompanied by obvious references to notations or internal thoughts attributed to others. 
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Fun Fact:
> 
> I'm lost for Butch/Wanderer shipping X_X
> 
> SO lost.
> 
> So...very...very...lost...
> 
> \- Okay so side notation...i'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to work on Lupine Lust. When I first started it, I was with someone whom it was inspired by...but she dumped my ass in the coldest mannerism. So...yeah. Plus I've left the Hetalian fandom almost completely...so...yeah. I might go back, IDK. It depends on where the next year takes me.


End file.
